


The Naked Man

by Soapbubblesoul



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 06:30:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6459541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soapbubblesoul/pseuds/Soapbubblesoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say it works two out of three times, guaranteed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Naked Man

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I guess I'm trying to ease my way back into writing more regularly with pwp. But what else is new.

Yifan knows he’s not the most perceptive all the time, missing on small details and hints and being caught off-guard by things that others say they have seen coming for a while. And in a way he wonders whether he shouldn’t have already noticed Yixing’s shoes shoved carelessly into the shoe rack at the entrance, or the younger’s coat thrown over the single hook by the door. But Yifan has been working all day, and when he’s exhausted he’s even less perceptive than usual. So he takes off his shoes and places them next to Yixing’s worn sneakers, his keys clinking against another pair when he drops them into the little bowl by the entrance.

Instead of questioning why his spare pair of keys is back in his apartment he pulls out his phone when he feels it vibrate against his leg. As expected, it’s just another message wishing him a happy birthday, and he acknowledges the well wishes with an emoticon because he doesn’t have the energy left for any big words. It’s not that he dislikes his birthday or doesn’t value it when people think of him. It’s just that it’s late and the day has been pretty much like any other normal work day for him. A few friends pestered him over having a small get-together that evening, enjoying dinner at a restaurant with a select few, but Yifan declined. He’d rather have a proper party as soon as the weekend rolls around.

Loosening his tie, Yifan trots through his flat, heading for the bedroom to finally change out of his suit. He’s only started his work a month ago, and having to wear a suit every day is something he still isn’t used to, too drastic of a change from his sweater-and-loose-jeans university days. He wonders whether it’s sad that he looks forward to lounging in front of his TV in his pajamas with a cup of instant ramen for his birthday instead of going out partying. He doesn’t get to finish that thought however because the moment that he steps into the doorframe to his bedroom, he freezes.

For a brief moment Yifan wonders whether he fell asleep on the train ride back home and is dreaming things, or whether someone accidentally slipped him some hallucinogen. Both sound like reasonable explanations for what he’s seeing right in front of him; namely, Zhang Yixing, naked, with nothing but Yifan’s dark green blanket draped around his well-built frame.

It’s Yifan’s favourite blanket. He loves the colour of it and it is very soft to the touch. Many evenings have been spent on his couch snuggled into that blanket, and although it’s not big enough to completely cover Yifan, he’s always felt comfortable beneath it. Yixing has often praised the blanket, claiming it for himself whenever he stays over at Yifan’s for movie nights. Never, not even in his wildest—and wettest—dreams would Yifan ever have imagined how the dark-green fabric would look contrasting directly with the smooth, pale skin of his best friend.

Because that is what they are, and have been throughout all of their university days—best friends. Of course they are best friends, or else Yixing wouldn’t have a key for Yifan’s flat. But while Yifan has been harbouring impure thoughts about the dimpled male for a while now, he never dared so much as to even hint at his feelings for the younger one, too afraid of ruining their perfectly functioning friendship. He enjoys how Yixing drops by unannounced with take-out food whenever he knows that Yifan isn’t in a mood to go out on the weekends, and in turn Yifan always knows Yixing’s schedule better than the brunet himself, making sure to give him regular reminder calls before important dates.

So Yifan really doesn’t know how he ended up in the current situation, with the star of his wet dreams sitting on his bed, stark naked. He vaguely remembers receiving a text earlier that day with Yixing’s birthday wishes paired with an apology of how he wouldn’t be able to come over tonight the way they originally agreed because the leader of his dance crew called for a last minute practice before their contest next week. Yifan had been a bit dejected as Yixing is the only person he would have loved to have around him in celebration of the day, but he told himself to be an adult and not whine about it.

His mouth hangs open while his brain tries to catch up with the sight in front of him. The questions he’s trying to formulate are a mixture of “Why are you here?” and “What about your practice?” and a good dose of “Where are all your clothes?” but all that comes out of his mouth is a low, strangled noise as his body refuses to cooperate with him. He isn’t quite sure how much time has passed with him just gaping—whether no time passed after all, or if he has actually been staring for several minutes—but it’s Yixing who moves first, a slow smirk spreading across his features as he stands from his seat on Yifan’s bed. The motion makes the blanket slide from his shoulders, catching at the younger’s bent elbows, and while most of his chest and his crotch had been covered by the dark green fabric before, he’s now standing there in all his naked glory for Yifan to gawk at. No amount of willpower could have possibly stopped Yifan’s blood from rushing south immediately, and as caught off-guard as he still is he doesn’t have the mental capacities to fight his rapidly growing erection either way.

“Happy birthday, Fanfan,” the younger says, his voice low and laced with an undertone that makes heat pool in Yifan’s stomach. He gasps, just because he can feel his cock straining against his pants already and Yixing is taking calculated steps towards him, swaying his hips tantalizingly and letting the blanket drop to the floor completely on his way over to Yifan. For a moment the elder sees something akin to insecurity flicker across Yixing’s expression, as if he’s reconsidering his actions—waiting naked for Yifan to come home certainly is a bold action, the blond would agree—but it’s gone so soon that Yifan might have just imagined it. Perhaps the renewed confidence in Yixing’s movements also stems from the fact that he only needs one glance at the not exactly subtle tent in Yifan’s pants to know that the taller is anything but unaffected by this sudden surprise visit.

And how could he be unaffected when Yixing’s body is so perfectly carved from years of following his passion for dancing. Yixing is very leanly built and with clothes on he looks downright slender, but completely bare like this Yifan has a perfect view of the strong muscles he gets sneak peeks of only when Yixing decides to wear his favourite flimsy wife-beaters during the summer. Or spring. Or autumn. Or even in winter, when he throws a sweater on over them, which he tends to take off as soon as he enters Yifan’s heated apartment anyway. Thinking about it, Yifan really has seen a lot Yixing’s collarbones and arms and shoulders, and the occasional glimpse of his abs whenever the younger would stretch his arms over his head to loosen his stiff muscles after having been slumped on Yifan’s couch for hours on end. And while Yifan doesn’t like admitting to it, all of these teasing sights have already been enough to fuel many of his shower fantasies—and a few not very innocent dreams on top of that.

But all he’s ever seen of Yixing are the firm muscles of his upper body; the younger is a shirtless kind of guy, not a pantless one. Not as if the sight of Yixing’s muscled chest and abs wasn’t already enough to have Yifan’s brain short-circuit, the additional reveal of everything Yixing’s pants usually cover has Yifan feeling completely helpless and unable to formulate any coherent thoughts. It’s kind of to be expected, seeing as there’s hardly any blood left for his brain because most of it has flooded down to his nether regions by this point. The younger’s thighs are as firmly muscled as the rest of his body, and Yifan has attended enough dance shows and practices to know _exactly_ what Yixing can do with those legs, with his _hips_.

Yifan doesn’t know if it’s an attempt to preserve some of his sanity or decency, but he forces himself to not stare at Yixing’s cock, already half hard and starting to curve up against the smaller man’s firm stomach. Admittedly, it is a tough battle to keep his eyes above Yixing’s groin level. Caught up in a million disjointed thoughts and his internal fight to not ogle shamelessly, Yifan doesn’t even realize that Yixing has moved into his personal space until all he can see is dark brown hair, eyes twinkling with mischief and a smirk that pronounces a deep dimple.

Yifan opens his mouth to say something, but once more he finds himself unable to form words, only a pathetic noise escaping his way too dry throat. Yixing tilts his head to the side slightly, looking as if he’s contemplating whether to say something himself, but then his eyes fix on Yifan’s lips and he seems to reconsider. Instead of using words he lets his gaze wander up to meet the elder’s again, and he lifts a hand to stroke Yifan’s cheek. His movements are so slow that Yifan doesn’t even flinch in surprise, but he still shudders at Yixing’s touch, so high-strung already that his skin prickles with anticipation. The contact of Yixing’s fingers against his skin feels like a spark of electricity and Yifan has half the mind to be embarrassed by his utter lack of control over his body at the moment.

The younger’s gaze softens when he sees Yifan’s reaction, his previously teasing smile taking on a fond quality as he brushes his hand past the elder’s cheek to card through his blond hair instead, urging him gently to tilt his head down while Yixing himself rises onto his tip toes to meet Yifan’s lips halfway. The kiss is soft, so much softer than Yifan expected, or how Yixing’s state of undress warrants. With his erection already straining against his pants, Yifan would have thought there would be an edge of passion to the kiss, but it’s Yixing who’s in control of it, and the only emotion the younger puts into the press of their lips is an almost fragile tenderness. It makes Yifan feel as if he’s losing the ground under his feet, only held up by Yixing’s hand in his hair and the one that’s gripping his bicep. He kisses back instinctively, and for a moment he forgets all about the fact that the younger is completely naked.

His head is reeling when Yixing eventually pulls back, and Yifan only notices that he has closed his eyes when he has to reopen them to see the other. Yixing looks a cross between satisfied and dazed himself, but as soon as he notices Yifan’s gaze on him he smiles.

“I got tired of dropping hints you never got anyway,” he finally offers as an explanation, and Yifan finds himself staring back as dumbly as he has been ever since he first walked into the room. “I got tired of watching you get jealous over me spending so much time with Jongin at the dance studio but never making a move on me. I got tired of always catching you studying me when you thought I wasn’t looking, but then acting as if nothing happened when I asked you about it.” The younger moves closer again, a bit of the fire returning to his eyes as he leans close enough that his breath ghosts against Yifan’s ear. When he continues, his voice has dropped to a husky whisper. “I got tired of hearing you moan my name in your sleep and having to pretend the next day that I never noticed anything at all.”

Yifan gulps, and then gasps as Yixing unabashedly palms him through the fabric of his pants. It brings the other’s lack of clothing back to the forefront of Yifan’s mind, and he feels as if the tenderness of the previous moment is replaced by something a lot more primal. “I got tired of flirting with you and you thinking I was just joking,” the smaller man continues, and beneath his teasing tone Yifan can detect seriousness, a sense of Yixing being genuinely upset, and suddenly he feels the need to apologize. He doesn’t get the words out however because when he moves to open his mouth he is instead met with Yixing’s lips again, this time pressing against him with a lot more intent.

Yifan finds himself swept up in the whirlwind that is Yixing, his lips dancing against Yifan’s, his fingers roaming freely over the elder’s shoulders and sides and sliding down his hips to graze along his thighs occasionally. Before he can really realize what’s happening, Yixing grabs him by the tie and finally tugs him away from the doorway, turning him until he can push the elder towards the bed. Yifan almost forgets how to move his limbs as he stumbles backwards rather inelegantly. With a smirk on his lips yet again, Yixing crosses the final distance and shoves Yifan to drop back onto the mattress, the taller scooting back automatically when Yixing follows him down. The brunet climbs on top of Yifan, moving so that he’s straddling the other, his hands on Yifan’s shoulders pressing him further into the sheets and helping Yixing keep his balance at the same time.

“You don’t need to worry about a thing tonight, birthday boy,” Yixing says, his voice dropping so low that Yifan only barely stifles a moan that threatens to escape him. And then the younger is already back to kissing all sounds from Yifan’s lips, his tongue prodding for entrance so intently that even if Yifan had been in his right mind he probably wouldn’t have been able to deny the other for long. Yixing seems all too eager to explore Yifan’s mouth, and even though Yifan tries his best to contain himself, he still lets out tiny pleased sounds because, _damn_ , Yixing knows how to kiss.

Yifan feels the smirk against his lips rather than sees it, and he wonders whether Yixing is taking delight in the noises he draws from the elder. His train of thought is put to an abrupt halt however when Yixing’s hand suddenly slips into his boxers—Yifan hadn’t even noticed the younger undo his belt and unzip his pants—to take a hold of Yifan’s painfully hard cock. The blond forgets how to breathe for a second, helplessly gasping for oxygen as a violent shudder wrecks through him. He is embarrassed about how strongly his body reacts to everything Yixing, but a small part of his brain reasons that he’s been in denial for so long that all his pent-up frustration is released at once now.

Even that remaining bit of rational thought is driven completely from his mind when Yixing starts leisurely pumping his dick. Biting down on his bottom lip is all Yifan can do, eyes closing as a wave of pleasure rolls over his body. His hands that had been lying uselessly at his side move up to curl around Yixing’s waist on their own accord, and Yifan gasps at the feeling of the other’s skin beneath his fingertips. He has been imagining how it would feel for so long, but all of his imagination doesn’t do the real thing any justice whatsoever. Yixing’s skin is _soft_ , so unbearably soft, and hot, and Yifan feels himself losing his mind all over again when Yixing abandons his mission of leaving hickeys on the part of Yifan’s neck that is exposed and instead moves up to kiss him again.

And while Yifan is fighting to keep his voice low, the younger man seems to have no restraints at all, moaning unabashedly right against Yifan’s lips. Yifan can’t tell whether the sounds are a reaction to Yifan’s hands pressing into his flesh or to the hot, heavy weight of Yifan’s cock in the younger’s hold, or whether Yixing just wants to rile him up with the noises. Perhaps it’s all of that together. Whatever the reason, Yifan finds he has a hard time catching up with all the sensations and influx of impressions and then Yixing follows up one flick of his wrist by rubbing his thumb over the head of Yifan’s cock, spreading the precum there. The elder finds that it’s impossible to hold back his moans any longer; a long, deep groan rips from his throat, escalating quickly into a high whine of Yixing’s name when the smaller one answers back with a breathy moan and a tightening of his fist.

Yifan is acutely aware of the thinness of his walls, but there also is a naked Yixing on top of him, pumping his dick and kissing him like his life depends on it. Yixing is moaning and whining, his heated skin shining with a sheen of sweat, and it’s essentially every wet dream Yifan has ever denied having since he first met Yixing, all combined into one overwhelming experience.

It catches Yifan off-guard when he feels the telltale tightening in his stomach, and suddenly the hands that had been gripping the smaller man’s hips are pushing against Yixing’s shoulders instead in warning. “Don’t—I-I’m-,“ he doesn’t get further with his stammering because Yixing has already withdrawn his hand from Yifan’s pants, and despite himself the elder whines at the loss.

Yixing sits back on the blond’s thighs, admiring the view; there is a faint pink dusting Yixing’s cheeks, and as Yifan lets his eyes travel south he can see Yixing’s erection curving against his stomach, a sure sign that the younger’s blush is a result of his own arousal. Yifan wonders how he must look for Yixing to study him with such a fascinated expression. He bets that he’s beat red, and his hair is plastered against his face with sweat because he’s still wearing his complete suit from work and he feels close to having a heatstroke at the moment. Going by the way Yixing’s eyes travel over his body, he’s sure the younger is pondering about his remaining clothes as well.

Yifan only notices how heavily he’s panting when Yixing leans back down to kiss him, but this time he’s gentle again, a soft press of lips that seems to be intended to show Yifan how to regulate his breathing. It reminds Yifan of the first kiss that night, and as much as he enjoys everything Yixing’s offering him right then, it’s the tenderness that makes him feel as if he can finally catch up with the situation. The bit of regained confidence makes his hands come up to curl around Yixing’s biceps, his thumbs caressing the hot skin softly and Yixing hums approvingly into their kiss.

It’s the younger who eventually withdraws, sitting back up and Yifan can’t stop himself from chasing after the other’s lips a little. Yixing’s hands on his shoulders press him back into the mattress though, and he sees a satisfied smile play around the brunet’s lips as he lets his hands brush up and down Yifan’s clothed chest, the elder’s breath hitching when Yixing purposely applies a bit more pressure as soon as he glides over Yifan’s nipples.

“You look hot,” Yixing notes all casually, and Yifan is almost in state of mind where he can formulate a proper response to such a bad pun, but then Yixing leans down, bracing himself with his hands on both sides of Yifan’s head. “Let me help,” the younger purrs, and after nipping at Yifan’s neck for a moment he moves down to his dress shirt. Yifan’s tie has already been loosened so it’s easy enough for Yixing to completely undo it with his teeth. As soon it’s out of the way he moves lower, shifting his weight so that he holds his balance with only one hand. With the other he undoes button after button, leaving a trail of kisses as he opens Yifan’s shirt torturously slow.

Yifan’s hands have long since started stroking along Yixing’s side, occasionally digging in a little in the hopes of spurring the smaller on to move faster, but Yixing takes his sweet time in undressing Yifan. As soon as he has reached the last button he’s almost sitting on Yifan’s shins, and with the way he’s leaning forward Yifan can feel the younger’s hard cock press against his leg. The sensation draws another moan from him, but it’s nothing compared to the noise that leaves his lips when Yixing decides to mouth along the tent in his boxers, letting his teeth graze against the fabric just enough to have Yifan whine in desperation.

The noise makes Yixing’s hips twitch, his erection rubbing against Yifan’s pants making the brunet moan openly in response. For once Yixing seems to take pity on Yifan, quickly lifting onto his knees so that he can pull the taller man’s pants and boxers off in one go.

When his erection finally springs free Yifan sighs in contentment, but the relief doesn’t last long. Yixing’s hungry eyes fixed on his cock make Yifan gulp. The smaller male looks downright entranced as he leans down again, kissing the crown before licking a hot stripe from Yifan’s balls up to where he’s already leaking precum. Yifan almost draws blood as he bites down on his lower lip in an attempt to muffle the loud moan rumbling in the back of his throat. He manages to stop the noise from emerging, but when Yixing starts ducking his tongue into the slit at the head of his dick as if he wants to lap up all the precum he can get, a high pitched keen falls from Yifan’s lips either way as one hand moves to bury in Yixing’s hair, the other catching the bed sheets in a tight grip. Yifan’s thighs are trembling from the effort it takes to stop himself from thrusting up into Yixing’s mouth and the way the younger is letting his fingertips dance down the sensitive skin on the inside of Yifan’s legs doesn’t help his self-restraint either.

When the touch suddenly disappears from his skin the elder wonders for a moment where Yixing’s fingers could have gone, but then the brunet moans while he’s still engulfing Yifan’s cock and the vibration sends a shock of pleasure through Yifan’s body that travels along his spine and all the way to his fingertips. For a moment he is reeling, and when he manages to get himself together enough to look down at what the other’s doing, he sees Yixing’s plush lips stretched around his length. The sight would have made Yifan gasp for air all by itself already, but then he sees how Yixing is up on his knees, his ass poking into the air almost like an invitation. From this position Yifan can see how the younger fists his own cock while he sucks Yifan off.

The tightening of Yifan’s hand in his hair is enough to tell Yixing how close the elder is to his climax, the second time that night already, and he pulls off of Yifan’s cock with an obscene smacking sound. He gives the head one last lick before retreating for good and Yifan shivers with desire.

As the younger climbs back up Yifan expects him to go for another kiss, but instead Yixing reaches past Yifan’s head for something on the nightstand. The blond doesn’t remember having lube and condoms out on display beside his bed, but when the other sits back on Yifan’s thighs that’s exactly what he’s holding in his hand. At the prospect of what’s going to happen next Yifan tries to swallow to alleviate the dryness of his throat, but it doesn’t help much; not when Yixing is ripping the wrapping of the condom open with his teeth, sending a new wave of arousal through Yifan’s veins.

He groans low in his throat when Yixing’s nimble fingers roll the condom over his throbbing length, coating it in lube immediately afterwards. Yifan expects Yixing to pass him the bottle next so that he can stretch the younger, but instead Yixing moves to kneel right above Yifan’s cock. The brunet is already reaching behind himself, getting ready to sink down on Yifan’s length, when Yifan’s large hands catch his hips tightly, drawing his attention to the elder’s widened eyes. “I should first—,“ Yifan cuts himself off, too embarrassed to finish the sentence, but Yixing understands him anyway.

A glimmer of affection hushes through his expression, most likely because Yifan worries about him, but it’s quickly replaced by a teasing looking smirk. “I had to wait almost half an hour for you. Did you really think I wouldn’t do something useful during that time?” With that Yixing lowers himself down enough for the head of Yifan’s cock to brush against his entrance, and the moan the younger lets out surely must be show for how obscene it is. But Yifan can’t complain or even comment, he can only suck in a breath and grip Yixing’s thighs as the brunet impales himself on his erection bit by bit. The younger is tight, so tight that Yifan wonders whether he actually stretched himself properly, but even despite screwing his face up in a remotely pained looking expression, Yixing doesn’t stop until he’s fully seated. Yifan rubs soothing circles into Yixing’s thighs all throughout, hoping to alleviate some of the pain. The brunet stills as soon as all of Yifan’s cock has disappeared inside of him, and takes controlled breaths to get used to the stretch of it.

“You’re bigger than my fingers,” Yixing huffs out a laugh, but the humorous quality of it is lost to the sweat beading on his forehead and the visible strain around the edges of his smile. And Yifan, for the first time that night, isn’t too afraid of shattering the moment if he takes any action, as he wraps his hand around the other’s erection. It draws a strangled moan from Yixing as Yifan starts pumping his length, reciprocating the younger’s earlier actions. With every flick of Yifan’s wrist, Yixing gasps, the tenseness slowly fading from his features as his eyes screw up in pleasure instead of pain. When Yifan thumbs at the slit of Yixing’s cock, the younger man’s hips stutter, and the sound coming out from Yixing’s lips makes Yifan’s hips twitch as well.

He keeps on pumping Yixing’s length even when the brunet starts working up a rhythm of raising himself up and sinking back down, his chest heaving with each harsh intake of air whenever Yifan’s cock stretches his insides again. Yixing is tight, tight and so _hot_ and Yifan feels his hand’s movements stutter as he throws his head back. The smaller doesn’t seem to mind, instead taking Yifan’s hand and guiding it let go of his dick to grip his hips instead.

Yifan does as he’s advised, following each lifting and falling of Yixing’s body and trying to keep at least some grip on his sanity. Yixing is bouncing up and down on his cock, sweat glistening down his firm chest. His thigh muscles flex deliciously with every movement, mouth open in a constant stream of moaning Yifan’s name. It’s more than Yifan would ever have dared dreaming up in his fantasies, but here he is, with Yixing’s warm skin underneath his hands, the younger clenching around his cock whenever he drops down to bury the taller man’s length fully inside him. And Yifan just resigns himself to the rush of the moment, doesn’t question it for as long as he has Yixing on top of him like this. He would be damn stupid if he wouldn’t appreciate and relish this moment to its fullest.

The pace Yixing is working up shows the strength of his body once more, how well trained his muscles are. The way he grind his hips down on Yifan, gyrating them before lifting up and slamming back down, has Yifan lose his breath over and over again; the harder he pants, the more excited Yixing seems to get. Suddenly the younger manages to land at just the right angle and his eyes fly open with a keen. He looks for the spot again with the next drop, a high pitched whine of Yifan’s name leaving his mouth, and it sets something off in the elder. When Yixing brings his hips down the next time, Yifan thrusts up and meets the brunet halfway. Yixing’s responding moan is probably loud enough to wake Yifan’s neighbour three doors down the hall, but neither of them cares at this point.

Trying for a better angle, Yixing leans back, bracing himself on Yifan’s legs. The sight of Yixing splayed out like this on top of him, bouncing up and down with his face twisted up in pleasure, is too much for Yifan to take. He doesn’t want this to end but he knows he’s getting close to finishing, and he’s been almost pushed over the edge too often that night already to be able to contain himself for long.

He curls his fingers around Yixing’s erection again and thrusts up with an elevated sense of urgency, making the younger cry out sharply. It shows how worked up Yixing is as well when it doesn’t take more than a few well timed pumps to have the younger’s thighs quiver as he cums in thick white spurts all over his chest, a breathy, broken moan on his lips. It’s all it takes for Yifan to let go of his last self-restraint as well. His orgasm hits him hard, despite not being exactly unexpected, and he tries to formulate Yixing’s name but fails miserably as all that leaves his mouth are garbled grunts interspersed with a high-pitched whine as Yixing keeps rolling his hips on top of him, milking him dry as the elder rides out his climax.

It’s only once Yifan’s hips have properly stilled that Yixing comes to a halt on top of him as well. Heavy panting fills the silence of the room as they both try to come back to their senses, the heady rush of sex still clouding their minds. Yixing pushes himself off of Yifan’s legs and he lets out a soft whine when the motion makes Yifan’s softening cock inside of him move. But instead of lifting himself off, Yixing drops forward to snuggle against Yifan’s chest.

“Happy birthday,” he whispers, and his voice sounds slightly rough around the edges, courtesy of how vocal he was all throughout their previous activity. Yifan thinks he’s never sounded better, or been cuter than now as he nuzzles against Yifan’s neck. The situation could have been completely sweet and innocent, if it hadn’t been for the fact that Yifan’s dick is still buried within the younger, and Yixing doesn’t seem to mind at all.

“That wasn’t quite the present I expected,” Yifan admits, finding his voice long enough to form a coherent sentence for the first time that night, his arms coming up to encage Yixing in a hug. He reasons he should be disgusted by the how sticky they both are, and that Yixing’s cum, which is drying on the younger’s chest, is pressed against him, but Yifan’s blood is too full of endorphins to be deterred by such small details.

Yixing chuckles lightly, and shifts to cross his arms on Yifan’s chest, placing his head on them so that he can look at the elder. “And what did you expect then?”

“I don’t know. Another plushie?” It’s a wild guess, but Yixing has spent so many hours cooing and making fun of Yifan’s plushie collection at the same time that it seemed as likely as anything else to the blond. Definitely a lot more likely than surprise birthday sex by his best friend whom he has been crushing on for years.

“Well, I decided to save money this year,” Yixing sing-songs, leaning up to plant a soft kiss on Yifan’s lips.

The elder gasps in mock indignation. “So you only slept with me because you’re broke?”

He expects Yixing to go along with the banter, to argue that of course, as a college student he has to ration his money wisely, but instead the younger catches Yifan off-guard for the nth time that night by looking at him seriously. There’s something in his expression that makes Yifan hold his breath, although this time he can already guess what is to come. “No, you big idiot, I slept with you because you’re too dense to get any of the other hints I was dropping, and I thought that dropping my clothes might be the only way to get the message into that thick head of yours.”

Yifan contemplates a lot of answers, explanations, justifications, but in the end he settles for the simplest thing his brain comes up with: he leans forward and kisses Yixing again, and lets his words ghost against the other’s lips, “Thank you, I love my present.” And as an afterthought, he adds, “And I love you.”

And when Yixing smiles, he knows it was the right answer.

(Although he _does_ get slapped for being cheesy after Yixing kisses him again.)


End file.
